The girl walked slowly towards the bar. She took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Finally, she placed her hands gently on the bar, trying to get a loose but firm grasp. With one final intake of the air surrounding her, she launched herself into the air. She trained for this for months; this was her time to shine.
They looked through the bars at the unconscious victim and wondered what had caused such a gentle soul to snap so violently and nearly kill the poor redhead. Then again, they thought about how annoying said injured redhead was and how many times they had thought of doing worse than Roxas. They looked at each other.
“He deserved it.” Cloud and Leon laughed and walked away, ready for the next round.
the reception here sucks, he thought. he tapped a blinking button with a hard thin finger. how am i going to manage my job, he thought, if i can’t be bothered to connect? tethering and networking was so hard when you were dead.
“BARS” is something my friend and I yell at each other sometimes, and have been doing it for so long I can’t remember why we started in the first place. BARS are somewhere I can’t enter for another year and a half and BARS are what my dad sat behind for 6 years as punishment for being an asshole.
Bars. Steel, ice, mist. They can be anything. Tangible, ephemeral. Constant or frenetic. A facade, a caricature, a feeling. Bars hold us. Trap us. Confine us. Bars kill us.
As he sat and looked at the people around him, none of which he’d call real friends, the bottom of his glass seemed further and further away. For quite some time, he’d been tricking himself into thinking this place was one where he belonged, one that would keep him out of harm’s way. Seeing through himself for the first time, he placed his half-finished beer on the bar, said goodbye to all the faceless names, and walked away for good.
We’re going to the bars to drink. Maybe we’ll talk, because I do enjoy our philosophical discussions but… tonight, ahh, I’m not so sure. Maybe we’ll just have our usual staring battles and then when we’re drunk enough–I don’t know–I’ll cook you a drunken late-night meal and I’ll burn myself on the hob.
keep us
hold us back
thrust us forward
if it’s set too high
try again
it’s not failure, it’s only a bar
if you’re behind them
go deeper inside and break free
if you’re in front of them
fly like a storm
the bars are everywhere. Over the window, in place of a door, at the end of the hall, in the way of my freedom. Keeping me in, keeping me away, keeping me a part. I don’t know, just keeping me.
behind bars, that’s what we are. an invisible prison, enforced by the selfish bastards who only put on airs, splurging on ways to keep the children in line while the money could be used to help them branch out. the bars weren’t really there before, you know, once upon a time. they used to be in a prison, sure, but a prison with nice wardens and a useless jailkeeper and break times in between. you had to squint to see the bars. now everywhere you look, everywhere you turn–bars. just bars.
Bars of gold or bars of chocolate. They surround me, they everywhere, I can just reach out and take one. If its a choco bar, I can nom on it. If it’s a gold bar, I’ll just use it to buy more choco. Now THAT is true wealth. I love chocolate :DD Chocolate is yummy. Chocolate fountains are cool. CHOCHOCOHCOHCOHCOCOHCOCHOC- sorry, off task. Right. I’ll just keep randomly typing as the time goes by slowly lalalalalla~ tomorrow’s picture day. i’ll bring chocolate. C: RING
He quickly looked down at his friend passed out across the ground.
“Are we going to do something about him?”
John sat there with a blank look on his face, barred out.
“Dude, is he even alive?” David leaned down and checked his pulse. Overdose.
Stuck behind the bars. I can’t see past them. They are what is holding me back but what is holding me in. The bars are comfort in a way. They keep what I don’t want out. The bars are thick and black. They are steel. They are strong. So much stronger than me.
i spent the ages 19-25 in bars. i’ve danced on bars, had bartenders pour whipped cream in my mouth. i’ve had sex in bar bathrooms; i’ve cried in bars; i’ve done ecstasy at bars; often very drunk and very high. when i turned 25, though, i grew tired of it. i mostly grew tired of the substance use, honestly. it’s been a few months since i’ve been to a bar, actually, and the only thing i miss is the dancing.
These bars will never keep me in here, do you hear me? Sooner, rather than later, I will get out. And when I do, there will be ten shades of hell to pay. This I guarantee on your family’s mass grave, detective. You better pray I’m shived in my sleep, because that’s the only thing stopping me from taking out every last person you care about.
While there were no real “bars” on his “cell” that Jensen could hold onto, he felt nevertheless that he was in a prison just like any other in the “real world.” And if there was an “inside” to this place, he thought, then there has to be an “outside,” and getting there is going to be my mission in life.
the rusty bars and its coldness reminded me of where I was. In an isolated prison. Deep within the labyrinth of my soul. Pitless like the lake of fire. Screaming in anguish as I lay there waiting for my release. Yes free me
There were bars on the windows. Bars on the windows. This was not the place I wanted to be. There was no grass anywhere, no yards, no trees, just gray dull drab concrete. Life in the big city. Hooray.
He leaped over the bars repeatedly as Jack babbled on. He tried to pay attention, he really did, but the bars really were so much more interesting. The bars didn’t complain their girl troubles, or family issues, or school; they just sat there, motionless, and quietly let him do with them as he pleased.
Have you ever set a bar for yourself? Or maybe multiple bars? Do you have just feel like you are never going to reach any of them? Sometimes we set the bar too high and often times we set the bar to low…the real challenge in life is setting the bar at just the right point so that you will be able to achieve some of the goals you set out to accomplish. Life is a challenge and a series of bars but we have to have them or it wouldn’t be worth living.
People say there’s a fine line between love and hate, but I don’t think so. I think there’s a thick bar. It’s like saying “Oh, Pepsi and Coke are exactly the same!” but everyone knows that’s a lie. Not that I like Pepsi OR Coke, but…well, I TRIED to make a point. I guess it didn’t work.
I have always been at the bar. I have never set it. Mediocrity is me. I am not known for anything. I read a lot, but that is all that is special about me. Unless…
bars are where you go to find companionship of the oppressive sex and lack of true companionship. bars are where you go to get drunk to fall into a stupor of alcoholic vapour.
“Come on! I know you can do it!”
“No!” The little girl retorted as she stomped her foot.
“What about for some chocolate?” The music teacher insisted
“Well, maybe if you hum a few bars….”
I used to go to bars a lot in my younger youth. I preferred dive bars, where there were a lot of characters, or college bars with youthful energy. The thing about bars is that you can talk late into the night and solve the world’s problems with your friends, but then in the morning, you can only remember the topics, not the solutions. I do cups of tea now, and conversations that I can hang onto.
The girl walked slowly towards the bar. She took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale. Finally, she placed her hands gently on the bar, trying to get a loose but firm grasp. With one final intake of the air surrounding her, she launched herself into the air. She trained for this for months; this was her time to shine.
They looked through the bars at the unconscious victim and wondered what had caused such a gentle soul to snap so violently and nearly kill the poor redhead. Then again, they thought about how annoying said injured redhead was and how many times they had thought of doing worse than Roxas. They looked at each other.
“He deserved it.” Cloud and Leon laughed and walked away, ready for the next round.
the reception here sucks, he thought. he tapped a blinking button with a hard thin finger. how am i going to manage my job, he thought, if i can’t be bothered to connect? tethering and networking was so hard when you were dead.
Sultry smile behind swirling smoke, drunken laughter echoing off the walls of my skull. Ale swished eagerly through lips, eyes glaze.
“BARS” is something my friend and I yell at each other sometimes, and have been doing it for so long I can’t remember why we started in the first place. BARS are somewhere I can’t enter for another year and a half and BARS are what my dad sat behind for 6 years as punishment for being an asshole.
Bars. Steel, ice, mist. They can be anything. Tangible, ephemeral. Constant or frenetic. A facade, a caricature, a feeling. Bars hold us. Trap us. Confine us. Bars kill us.
As he sat and looked at the people around him, none of which he’d call real friends, the bottom of his glass seemed further and further away. For quite some time, he’d been tricking himself into thinking this place was one where he belonged, one that would keep him out of harm’s way. Seeing through himself for the first time, he placed his half-finished beer on the bar, said goodbye to all the faceless names, and walked away for good.
We’re going to the bars to drink. Maybe we’ll talk, because I do enjoy our philosophical discussions but… tonight, ahh, I’m not so sure. Maybe we’ll just have our usual staring battles and then when we’re drunk enough–I don’t know–I’ll cook you a drunken late-night meal and I’ll burn myself on the hob.
These bars I hide behind keep me locked in, safe. It’s not safe outside, not anymore, not since they were released…
Bars.
It sucks to me be in the inside of bars.
Locked, restrained, and deliberated.
keep us
hold us back
thrust us forward
if it’s set too high
try again
it’s not failure, it’s only a bar
if you’re behind them
go deeper inside and break free
if you’re in front of them
fly like a storm
DO you ever feel like your life is being controlled by the bars that keep you from doing what you wish?
Erase those bars, for life is what you make of it.
You don’t want bars holding you back, don’t have bars holding you back.
Make what you want to happen happen.
You ARE capable of it.
the bars are everywhere. Over the window, in place of a door, at the end of the hall, in the way of my freedom. Keeping me in, keeping me away, keeping me a part. I don’t know, just keeping me.
behind bars, that’s what we are. an invisible prison, enforced by the selfish bastards who only put on airs, splurging on ways to keep the children in line while the money could be used to help them branch out. the bars weren’t really there before, you know, once upon a time. they used to be in a prison, sure, but a prison with nice wardens and a useless jailkeeper and break times in between. you had to squint to see the bars. now everywhere you look, everywhere you turn–bars. just bars.
Bars of gold or bars of chocolate. They surround me, they everywhere, I can just reach out and take one. If its a choco bar, I can nom on it. If it’s a gold bar, I’ll just use it to buy more choco. Now THAT is true wealth. I love chocolate :DD Chocolate is yummy. Chocolate fountains are cool. CHOCHOCOHCOHCOHCOCOHCOCHOC- sorry, off task. Right. I’ll just keep randomly typing as the time goes by slowly lalalalalla~ tomorrow’s picture day. i’ll bring chocolate. C: RING
8 beats to a Bar. Rap. Hip Hop. Music. Dance. Floor. Clubs. Bars.
He quickly looked down at his friend passed out across the ground.
“Are we going to do something about him?”
John sat there with a blank look on his face, barred out.
“Dude, is he even alive?” David leaned down and checked his pulse. Overdose.
Stuck behind the bars. I can’t see past them. They are what is holding me back but what is holding me in. The bars are comfort in a way. They keep what I don’t want out. The bars are thick and black. They are steel. They are strong. So much stronger than me.
jail prison my uncle big scary adults. also, monkey bars, school, cruel children… rough times.
i spent the ages 19-25 in bars. i’ve danced on bars, had bartenders pour whipped cream in my mouth. i’ve had sex in bar bathrooms; i’ve cried in bars; i’ve done ecstasy at bars; often very drunk and very high. when i turned 25, though, i grew tired of it. i mostly grew tired of the substance use, honestly. it’s been a few months since i’ve been to a bar, actually, and the only thing i miss is the dancing.
Bars constrict you, hold you, and keep you for as long as they can. now lets talk about pandas they are nice… we should all be pandas.
Bars.
Blocking him from the outside world, not letting him talk or love or touch. And he wanted to. He wanted to so bad.
push the bar higher
Push the bar farther
Maybe some day will make it
maybe some day
we’ll go over the bar
and live for ever young
These bars will never keep me in here, do you hear me? Sooner, rather than later, I will get out. And when I do, there will be ten shades of hell to pay. This I guarantee on your family’s mass grave, detective. You better pray I’m shived in my sleep, because that’s the only thing stopping me from taking out every last person you care about.
While there were no real “bars” on his “cell” that Jensen could hold onto, he felt nevertheless that he was in a prison just like any other in the “real world.” And if there was an “inside” to this place, he thought, then there has to be an “outside,” and getting there is going to be my mission in life.
“Sigh…” came the disembodied voice.
the rusty bars and its coldness reminded me of where I was. In an isolated prison. Deep within the labyrinth of my soul. Pitless like the lake of fire. Screaming in anguish as I lay there waiting for my release. Yes free me
Standing above the bars, He stared down at his world and thought with hint of sarcasm and fondness, “They’re all going to hell.” He smirked.
There were bars on the windows. Bars on the windows. This was not the place I wanted to be. There was no grass anywhere, no yards, no trees, just gray dull drab concrete. Life in the big city. Hooray.
Bars.
They keep people behind them and life begins to be miserable.
But sometimes, it’s behind bars that some people find life.
God can use both freedom and isolation to bring hearts closer to Him.
In Christ, even bars can become life.
He leaped over the bars repeatedly as Jack babbled on. He tried to pay attention, he really did, but the bars really were so much more interesting. The bars didn’t complain their girl troubles, or family issues, or school; they just sat there, motionless, and quietly let him do with them as he pleased.
Bombard the bars with your tales of scars, take home the baited with your fancy cars.
Have you ever set a bar for yourself? Or maybe multiple bars? Do you have just feel like you are never going to reach any of them? Sometimes we set the bar too high and often times we set the bar to low…the real challenge in life is setting the bar at just the right point so that you will be able to achieve some of the goals you set out to accomplish. Life is a challenge and a series of bars but we have to have them or it wouldn’t be worth living.
“count 4 bars from 63” said our band director, “and write yourself a big reminder to look up here for a cut off”
People say there’s a fine line between love and hate, but I don’t think so. I think there’s a thick bar. It’s like saying “Oh, Pepsi and Coke are exactly the same!” but everyone knows that’s a lie. Not that I like Pepsi OR Coke, but…well, I TRIED to make a point. I guess it didn’t work.
I have always been at the bar. I have never set it. Mediocrity is me. I am not known for anything. I read a lot, but that is all that is special about me. Unless…
The bars of the barbells were hot. They felt good in his hands. They were his golden scepter of power. He could do anything he set his mind to.
From bar to bar,
from fool to fool,
it´s time for avoiding bars.
bars are where you go to find companionship of the oppressive sex and lack of true companionship. bars are where you go to get drunk to fall into a stupor of alcoholic vapour.
“Come on! I know you can do it!”
“No!” The little girl retorted as she stomped her foot.
“What about for some chocolate?” The music teacher insisted
“Well, maybe if you hum a few bars….”
I used to go to bars a lot in my younger youth. I preferred dive bars, where there were a lot of characters, or college bars with youthful energy. The thing about bars is that you can talk late into the night and solve the world’s problems with your friends, but then in the morning, you can only remember the topics, not the solutions. I do cups of tea now, and conversations that I can hang onto.